They all fall down
by dragon tears1
Summary: Draco as Veela blood and find his mate. The problem: Veela blood is more animal than human.Can his mate love him even if he's part animal?Oh his mate: Ginny Weasley.chap1 rewriten!
1. Chapter 1

_**They all fall down**_

_I can be as humble as the next guy _

_or_

_I can blink and make you crumble from the inside._

He had just turned eighteen this morning, and there was an increasing feeling of emptiness that was growing inside of him. Turning eighteen had been supposed to be fun: he was supposed to feel free from everything, he was supposed to only take care of himself the way he wanted...well it seemed that he could not do that now.

Speaking about now, he was currently sitting in Dumbledore's office trying to find _her._ Yeah, _HER_. Because you see, he had learnt about an hour ago that his father, yes his _freaking_ father had Veela blood running through his veins. And he, too. They had told him that if he didn't find his mate he would eventually die, great that was great news because for him it meant that he would actually have someone to spend the rest of his life with and that he had all the time he wanted to find her.

Well, for once in his life Draco Malfoy had been wrong.

Normally, Veela were supposed to have found their mate already and he hadn't. So that means that if he didn't find her in the twenty-four hours after turning eighteen, he was dead.

So this brings us to the topic at hand: Draco Malfoy sitting in Dumbledore's office, more than angry, with Snape and the headmaster himself watching him.

"Can you sense her?" asked Snape.

A muscle jerked in the young man's jaw. What a stupid question. He didn't know what he had to do to find her. Hell, no one had ever told him he had Veela blood in the first place! Trying to calm himself he closed his eyes. That's when he realized he could hear conversations; conversations that were taking place inside and outside the castle. He tried to focus on the voices, trying to find its owner and that's when he realized that if he didn't recognize their voice he could still smell them. He focused harder. There was a voice that was attracting him, a smell he found addicting...

"Can you smell her?" asked Snape, breaking Draco's concentration.

That did it.

Furious he rose from the chair, sending it clattering to the stone floor. His temper rose up in him like a snake, and burst.

"How the hell should I know how to find her? Fuck! I didn't know I had Veela blood! How do you expect me to know how to find a mate?" he yelled in his professor's face, his screams echoing.

"Mister Malfoy," Snape said in his cool, condescending tone, unfazed, "You have no choice. You must concentrate to the best of your inept abilities, or you'll just die on the spot." His black eyes flashed dangerously, but an instinct told Draco that he was smothering it on his own behalf. Why, well that was beyond Draco. His mind truly was amateur, unfocused, the conversations babbling inside his head, throwing him for a loop. Well, Draco was better than that. He gathered his wits, and brought focus to his mind. He found a retort.

"The ineptness of your own abilities are failing to comprehend my situation," Draco bit out. "Your blood is not as mine, and you have absolutely _no_ idea what this is like, so if _you don't mind_," Draco let loose with a blistering snarl. Snape's eyes had an instinctive passiveness that flitted across his corneas. He took a step back. The triumph felt satisfying as it pulsed through his veins.

And then he heard. His blood ran icy for less than a pulse, before it boiled in his veins.

Something was different. He couldn't hear the tone of voices he had heard earlier, nor their smell. All he could hear was one voice. Only one and a smell. There was something soothing about the voice, lulling his feral cravings, like the scent of jasmine and lavender, after a rain, making him much more at peace then he had ever been. He found the smell addicting. He sniffed loudly, craving it, _needing_ it. He could actually hear a heart beating and hear his on one trying to beat at the same rhythm as _her_ heart. He had found her. The conviction left him throbbing, blood rushing to his head. _He had found her._

He slowly turned toward the door, wanting to go to her, to make her his. He could tell it was his Veela blood taking control now, totally animal, wanting its mate, wanting what was rightfully his. He was about to open the door when a sentence she said struck him.

"_Can't you just leave me alone? I've done nothing to you..."_

The way she had say it made his inside scream revenge; for her hesitation and fear. Whomever she was talking to could smell an easy victory, as Draco did now. His heart pulsed faster, enraged. He wanted to see the person's blood on the floor for making her voice spill out of her beautiful, vulnerable throat, (his whole body began to shake), in fear like this.

She _had_ said it fearfully; she had been scared. _Scared._

"_Shut up Mudblood-lover. You are so dense that even your brothers ignore you!"_

She didn't talk but he felt her. He feel her sadness has the words took its toll on her. He knew she thought it was true, he could almost see the tears threatening to fall.

Snarling, he jerked the door open and ran down the stairs.

The teacher and the headmaster only stared at the empty space before them. Minutes pass until the shock of what had happen sink in. Dumbledore abruptly got up.

"Follow him!" He yelled to Snape.

Snape, being younger than the old man, came out of his stupor and ran after Draco, the headmaster not far behind.

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"Look, I...I have to go."

"You aren't going anywhere," said the person, gripping her by the arm so painfully that she let out a cry.

"Let go, you're hurting me!"

She tried to get out of the hold, but she was so little that it did nothing. She bit her lips. Would this be one of these days? The days that she couldn't go to class because she was too scared that someone was going to hurt her again?

"That's the point, idiot," He replied.

Before her human mind could even process the words that fell from his lips, she felt the jerk of his body being ripped away from her; she fell to the ground because he still had a death-hold on her arm.

Draco could only see his hands on her. His human side told him it was nothing, that he should have just grabbed her, but his Veela side told him that it was unacceptable, no one should presume they could put theirs on what was his and of course Draco being a Malfoy, the Malfoy side replied exactly the same way. So let just say the guy was doomed.

Draco struck. It seem as if his hands had plans on their on and didn't listen to what he was trying to tell them. But it wasn't just that. He _needed_ to hit the guy who had touched what was his, he _needed_ to see him in pain, he _needed _to see him hurt, like he had hurt her. It was like a drug, the more he hit, the more he needed the next punch.

"Mister Malfoy! Let him go!" said Snape, running towards them, the headmaster just after him.

A crowd was forming. No one dare to stop him and everyone was wondering why Dumbledore didn't do something to stop the enraged boy. The headmaster was only staring.

Little did they know that the headmaster head was spiraling with all sorts of plans to make the boy stop, to see what made him do this first until...

"Malfoy stop it! You're killing him!"

He met the face of Virginia Weasley and all the thoughts in his head made connection, he turned toward Snape.

"Severus, take miss Weasley away from here and now" he said.

"What? But headmaster, I've got to..."

"Do it. Take her away at once."

Snape took Ginny's hand gently.

"Come miss Weasley."

Draco, in his black fury only heard: _Take her away._ They wanted to take her away, they were going to take her from him. He wouldn't allow it. He rose and growled, shifting suddenly into a crouching, protective stance. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her behind him, sheltering her from view, protecting her from them. He heard her gasp and try to take a step back, afraid. He looked at Snape, promises of death in his eyes if he made one move toward her but the man didn't move.

At the order of Dumbledore, the boy's unconscious body was being dragged away, and the students began to disperse. Dumbledore looked at Draco, a low growl in his throat, defending Ginny like his life depended on her; and by some twist of fate it did.

"Mister Malfoy, you are scaring her. Maybe you should explain to her what is happening here."

Getting no reaction, only a tightening of his grip on her, Dumbledore said something else.

"I won't hurt her, Draco."

Draco blinked slowly, his eyes mistrusting, and slowly pulled Ginny around to his side, crushing her to him and sheltering her with his body. Ginny let out a squeal, and Draco was hit with an overwhelming craving to hide her, make her safe.

Dumbledore tried again. "I think you're hurting her, mister Malfoy."

Draco immediately released some of the pressure his arm was inflicting. He took a deep breath, a tantalizing floral scent filling his lungs, which seemed to seep into his blood, sending an elated feeling from the crown of his head all the way down to the balls of his feet. Getting calmer, he looked at her. He was struck by big brown eyes looking at him, in wonder, and his fevered grey one staring back at her with so much emotion that her own twisted sensations began to calm down.

"Wh--what the hell…" her voice came out small and far away. She swallowed. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" she said, sounding scandalized. She squirmed under his arms, trying to get away from him but he only growled and bought her closer to him.

"What are you doing, ferret? Get the _bloody hell_ off of me!"

"Miss Weasley, let him explain the situation." Ginny turned to gape at Dumbledore. His brains were addled. She _knew_ it.

What other reason was there? Why, in the name of bloody-_merlin_, would Dumbledore allow Malfoy to run, bellowing like a territorial baboon on steroids, into her life, to beat the _shit_ out of her dear friend? The sarcasm was bitterly marring her thoughts. Ginny did owe Draco this one shred of gratitude.

Ginny glanced up again into his eyes, glaring slightly. The last time she gazed unrelentingly into his eyes, she was slightly frightened by what she saw. He was completely _unrecognizable_. She saw things in the depths of his stormy eyes that she, and nobody else before, had ever seen there. So cautiously, she looked up. Instantaneously, she felt her lungs crumble at how he was looking at her. She had never saw emotion in his eyes and now it full of it and it was for her. Well, at least she told herself so. She saw terrifying, feral anger. The way he held the outer corners of his eyelids showed irritation. In his intense grey irises, she saw unrequited, irrevocable passion. It was frightening, to say the least. And she was captivated.

He glanced away for a moment, taking a sweet breath to think. And swiftly, he spun Ginny up against the wall, flinging his hands up, bracing himself against the grey stone. She could smell his breath, smelling faintly of cinnamon, as he breathed heavily, looking into her eyes. Ginny could have easily ducked under his arms, she felt, if she tried, but his eyes held her captive. And besides, Ginny was overcome with the sensation that he was about to kiss her. Tremors wracked her body.

He began to speak slowly, watching her reactions hungrily. "I am eighteen today. And I've just found…" he trailed off, and Ginny unconsciously tilted her head up, to urge him on. This was the most compelling thing that had ever happened to her before. It was strange and slightly ridiculous, like her dream last night of Flitwick mopping the starry ceiling of the great hall, singing "Oh come, ye Merry Hippogriffs" at the top of his lungs. But this was different. She could feel flickers of electricity pulsing around them as he tried to catch his breath.

"I've just found that I have partially Veela blood. If you know anything about Veela, well…" he glanced upwards, glaring. "We must have a mate. Twenty four hours after the moment we turn eighteen, or we die." Ginny barely heard her own soft intake of breath, but he did.

"I have… instincts. And a great many of them are pointing to you. You are my mate." He said it with frightening conviction.

She bit her full lower lip.

"I...I don't understand. What is a mate?"

The words came out before he knew it, in a rush of impassioned certainty. His Veela blood taking control once again.

"You are light to my darkness. You're the part of that is sweet where I am rough. You're the part of me that is tender while I am enraged. A mate is to be by the other's side for all time. We cannot divorce, because I won't allow it. You're the light to my darkness, you're the other half of my soul."

"Does that mean I have to live with you...like a wife?"

"Yes."

She bit her lip once again. How could her day come down to this? Today had been a good day until recently now she learnt that she was to be bound to her family greatest enemy forever...

"W--what if I don't want to?"

His eyes turned towards her, warning in them.

"You have no choice."

"Of course I have a choice! You always have a choice!" Ginny was mad. Who the hell did he think he was to tell her she was enslaved?

He sighed, pain tracing his perfect features.

"If you walk away from me now, I'll be dead by morning, because I cannot live without you. Is that what you wish?"

"And you, you will live a life always half-empty, because you're missing something, and that would be me."

She searched his eyes for the truth. And it was transparent; transparent in his eyes.

"How do you know that? You said you knew about this just this morning!"

He looked away from her.

"I don't know." But he did. It was his blood; these words had been imprinted in him before he was born, it had been imprinted in his very blood. He tightened his hold on her.

Ginny bit her lips. Isn't this what she actually wanted? For him to die, to never cause her pain again? Her whole family, and his, were against each other from the beginning, to the end. Her best friends had fallen at the very hands that were sheltering her fragile skull. She had not forgotten how she had wished for this very opportunity to be presented to her, when she was lying awake at night, cursing his malevolence, his very name.

Then why was the word refusing to roll off her tongue? All she had to say was "No". Dumbledore was _right there_; he wouldn't let Draco harm her in his wrath.

She opened her mouth to reply, and his eyes flashed up to meet hers. And the words just tumbled out.

"As you wish."


	2. Chapter 2

_**They all fall down**_

_I could be every nasty thing_

_You ever dreamt a man could be_

She hugged her knees tightly, bringing them closer to herself in an attempt to bring herself some sense of security, or at the very least, warmth. Why? Why had she set foot in this room? Ornament guest room of Hogwarts, clad in gold and sharp greens, crowned with a vast master bed in the very center. It was freezing in here. Nobody had thought to start a fire, or cast a charm. She could hear the steady rushing of the shower running, as Malfoy readied for bed. This was not her room and there was nothing here that belonged to her, besides her unpacked luggage that lay in the middle of the room. She knew that anyone as poor as her would be very happy to be in her position, some would even killed, but not her. But Ginny had been brought up to see that not everything worth having in the world was bought.

"_You will have everything you want, I will not refuse you a thing."_ He had said to her while she had been packing her things in her old room.

_"Can you give me love?"_ She had asked, a fresh wave of angry tears welling up in her cinnamon eyes.

She tried to slow her breathing down; she tried to get herself under control but she couldn't. The whole situation seemed absolutely hopeless. She was only sixteen years old! And already, the future seemed set: she could never have a loving husband, she would never have a happy family like her own. Not with Draco Malfoy. What kind of life was that? A tear fell down her cheek and she hurriedly wiped it away with her sleeve, she didn't want a repeat of the scene that had took place earlier in her old room...

_Each time she packed a piece of clothing, she cried harder, because each time, she was packing away a piece the future she had wanted and was going in the direction of one she didn't want. She never heard him enter the room. When she saw his unmoving figure right behind her in her peripheral vision, she jumped in surprise, doing a quick circle to face him. Shocked, she saw the utter fury radiating from his grey, stormy eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but found she had nothing to say. _

_"Who has hurt you?" He asked in a flat voice that sent a tremor down her spine. For a moment, she felt angry. Pretentious prick, assuming to a fault and completely oppressive. Her first instinct was to tell him that he was the cause of her tears; that she didn't want to be his mate, whatever the hell that entailed, and that she hated him as he hated her. She was edgy, because it reminded her of a time she had been this way. A time where she had been completely cornered. Where she didn't have a choice. Ginny used to think that everyone always has a choice. It was just what you did with it that mattered. Ginny wasn't that naïve anymore. Beasts like Tom Riddle never gave choices. _

_"No one...it's just this situation!" She said instead. "I feel--"She trailed off. Since when does Draco Malfoy understand feelings? She looked away because she didn't want him to see her so vulnerable. Her back was rigid and tense, and she felt like running away. His thumb roughly erased her tears and finally came to rest, cupping her neck._

_"Don't worry. I'll try my best to be a good husband. I, too have to handle this situation." He paused. "It's not the same, I know, but I understand you." He kept walking on closer and closer while she kept backing away until the back of her knees buckled against the foot of her four-poster. "But don't worry," he had murmured. "We are one now."_

_Her brain was frantically screaming for her to run, escape, at the very least, push him away. Her blood was pumping furiously through constricted veins and her breathing was ragged. But her body was frozen. Her legs were glued to the floor. _

"_And you do not have a choice." _

_Curiously, she tilted her head and looked deeply at him with hooded eyes. He scrutinized her, and removed his hands from the small of her back and neck. The bare skin was cold where his warmth was absent. He turned around and began to walk away. He called over his shoulder, _

_"I'll be downstairs. Hurry."_

Ginny bit her lip when she heard the shower shut down. She was almost scared to see him again. To breathe in his scent was to lose control on all things voluntary. Her entire upbringing was completely against everything in the world that had happened in the past She could still feel her heart beating, like if it was trying to match the same rhythm as his, his lips had seems to call to hers, wanting her. Her body had screamed for his. _Was_ screaming for his.

Ginny could hear his footsteps on the tile floor, approaching the door. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that were forming in her head of what could have happened. They couldn't do anything, anything at all. Their parents! What would they think? They didn't even _know_. Her mother would have an aneurism if she knew Ginny was sleeping in the same room as the entire family's natural enemy. But still… Flickers of electricity seemed to charge the air, simply by the thought of sharing warmth in the master bed. Her stomach was doing backflips, and her hands were shaking. The bathroom door swung open and her eyes glanced up involuntarily.

Bloody hell.

Her eyes immediately widened, and she felt heat rushing all the way from her neck up to her hairline. The man was clad in only a white towel, wrapped around his waist!

She tried to make herself looked away but she couldn't. Instead, she found her eyes roving over his taut body. She took in his long strong legs; she enjoyed the game of muscles rolling smoothly under his skin while he was searching for boxers in the chest of drawers. She didn't dare look at his bottom. She wasn't sure if she could handle it. She scrutinized his taut stomach, muscled biceps, strong...safe? His face was turned away. He hadn't even glanced at her from the moment he walked back into the bedroom.

She was met with an overpowering need to have him on top of her, crushing her with his bare skin. Staring at his bare nipple alone was incredibly appealing. She needed to entwine her legs with his, feel his rough hands running over her curves, inside her, while she dug her nails in his back and tried to contain the pleasure, throaty moans echoing in the bedroom. Their bedroom. They would lock the doors, and have absolutely no chance of being interrupted. She could feel herself getting and hotter by the second, and to her pure horror he slowly turned his head towards her and smirked.

_Like he knew what she had been thinking!_

His long white hands began to remove the towel wrapped around his waist. She abruptly jumped up and almost ran to the bathroom.

"I'm taking my shower now!" She yelled as she closed the door. Leaning against the frame, Ginny tried to slow her ragged breathing, and used her wand to lock the door.

Oh my god.

With shaking hands, she flipped the shower knobs to cold, and she shed her clothing, letting the material drop to the floor. She scrutinized her own freckled body. She had always been waifish, but her intense, early morning quidditch practices kept her wiry muscles toned. She thought of the inevitable, and shuddered. What about a wedding? Were they just going to have… sex? Ginny did have morals, after all. She unclasped her red cotton bra, and shook her plump, apple-sized freckled breasts out of the contraption. Shedding her boy shorts, she smiled at her reflection. This summer she had filled out a little, with a fuller bottom and a real cup size. She pulled the elastic out of her hair, and shook it around her shoulders. She was pretty, in her own way, she thought. Her hair had darkened into a rose-red auburn, and the brown in it brought out her expressive brown eyes. Her freckles were still the most annoying physical Weasley trait she could possibly have, but if she had inherited the shreds of tact and grace that Ron had gotten, she would have jumped off the astronomy tower. But she liked to think that maybe, Draco Malfoy could appreciate this view. She felt bad that she wasn't as experienced… maybe it would be awkward? But she had heard the rumors. He was the best. She smiled at the thought of having the very best as her only.

After sliding a pair of satin boxers and pajama pants over his hips, Draco lay sprawled out on the goose-feather down comforter. It felt like a cloud. Which was perfect for disappearing, lost in your own thoughts.

Draco had insisted, rather flatly, leaving no room for argument, that Ginny and himself must now share living quarters. He completely disregarded the loyalty he had towards his house, in order to live with a blood-traitor he had formerly hated. And now this. He could hear his mother's howl of despair from miles away.

So Dumbledore, the old fool, suggested the use of one of Hogwart's many guest rooms.

"_Whaaat? Hogwarts has guest rooms?" Draco said in disbelief. Wouldn't people know about them? Come across one every now and then? He could imagine the convenience they could provide… no more shagging in the broom closet. _

"_Hogwarts has precisely fifty-two guest rooms, and in normal circumstances, students are in no way, shape, or form allowed to set foot in them. But I think this is fitting. _

_Ginny looked on in horror. _

He had seen what had came to her mind at the sight of his nearly naked body, and he had to choke back a laugh. He didn't dare look at her, but another reason was pressing as well. If he looked into her wide, doe eyes that screamed vulnerability, and ran his fingers through her rose-colored, petal-soft hair, he would implode. Restraining his insticts was merely polite and proper, but if he saw her full bottom one more time, he knew what would happen. Maybe it was for the best, he argued with his thoughts. A voice screamed back, _she is yours! Take her! Take her NOW!_ But as he probed deeper into her thoughts, another image had made its way to his mind, her mind. She didn't know any special positions, the exact place that felt the most pleasure, and it puzzled him. Most people knew at least a little about their own preferences… That's when his thoughts had been interrupted by a sweet scent. He had sniffed the air carefully, for he didn't want her to know he was actually sniffing like an animal.

His heart had accelerated, his blood had called to hers and his body craved to be merged with hers.

_She had been aroused._

_She had wanted him._

All his instinct had took control. All in him had screamed for him to take her here and now, to make her his for the world to see, to take what belonged to him. But he had closed his eyes, scenting her virginity, and knew he could not take her now. He knew virgins had to be handled carefully. He wanted to claim her, but he also wanted to make it special. Not like all of his times with Slytherin whores. She was his and she deserved better than that. She deserved better than Draco Malfoy himself. Of course she did.

Ginny sat sprawled in a buttery, leather sofa, her hands covering her face. This was horribly, horribly embarrassing and awkward. How could Dumbledore allow this? Malfoy sat on the bed, on top the thick white comforter, his absurdly handsome face angry. The moment she exited the bathroom, he was lying on the bed already, clad in a pair of pajama pants and no shirt, allowing Ginny a good view of his lightly sculpted torso, tantalizing as it was. His pants rode low on his hips, begging to be dragged off. He demanded that she sleep next to him, and Ginny could feel a horrified, shocked expression riding her face.

"Wh--whaaaat? I don't think so, Draco Malfoy!" She sputtered, and it only served to make him angrier.

"Do you think you have a _choice_?" he spat, shoulders tense.

"I don't give a _damn_ if you give me a choice or not!" she yelled, clutching the armrest. "I'm not sleeping with you!! You're not even wearing a shirt!"

"Yeah?" he challenged. "Make you uncomfortable?"

"Of—of course not! It's just that I've never slept in a bed with a shirtless man who is… is… Whatever! Point made!"

Draco let loose with a blistering snarl, one that widened Ginny's eyes and left her speechless. "You better not have," he said. No one, _no one_, had the right to put their hands on her, kiss her, taste her, share warmth in any kind of way. He would kill them all!

"NO!" She was yelling again. He threw back the covers, and stood over her menacingly.

"Yes!" he contradicted, taking her in his arms. She was kicking, fighting him tooth and nail. He quickly forgot the bridal-style way he wanted to bring her to the bed, and threw her over his shoulder.

_Whoof._ He dropped her into the softness of the bed. She tried to scramble away, but he hoisted himself on top of her. Pinning both her hands with one of his above her head, she was still. Draco felt his lips curling into a knowing smile.

"I know you're a virgin, Ginervra Weasley." She stopped breathing.

He continued, "And I will not hurt you." Pain traced his angular features. "I… could not."

Ginny felt her back involuntarily arch up to meet him. Her lips found his, and she breathed in his heady scent. He pulled away, and she sighed in satisfaction.

"Thank you."

With a little awkward difficulty, he rolled off of her, and looked up at the ceiling. They were both silent, and after a few minutes, Draco could feel her soft, rhythmic breathing, and he knew she had fallen asleep.

He woke up to the knowledge that something was missing. He no longer awoke with the lost feeling of not knowing where one was. His newly improved Veela senses never slept.

It was very early in the morning, around five-thirty a.m. A ghostly pale light seeped through the thick curtains, casting a ethereal blue shade around the room.

"Ginervra…" He growled softly. Getting up, he saw a faint light coming out of the bathroom. He abandoned the warmth where her body had once been, and went to knock on the bathroom door.

"Gin?"

He heard nothing. After a couple of knocks without answer, and he began to panic. A million frantic questions flooded his mind. Where the hell was she?

The door was unlocked, so he eased it open, and peeked around inside. No Ginny. He stepped inside, searching for her thoughts and tantalizing herbal scent. Nothing.

Did she leave? How _dare_ she? Draco felt his head spinning, and felt faint tracings of nausea. He stumbled to grab hold of anything; he was about to fall. Oh, no. Was he dying? He needed her!

He grasped the door handle of the closet door. The door was already opened slightly, and he accidentally pulled it a few inches farther. Suddenly, the calm scent of rain and jasmine and something quite unidentifiable swept his senses. It was her. The walls ceased to spin, and he regained balance.

He looked past the door, and his mouth hung open in shock. The closet was actually much more than a closet. It was a conjoining bedroom! It had the same proportions as his room, with the same large bed set in the center. The décor was different, and the curtains were held open. Ginny stood by the window, tying a scroll of parchment to the leg of a tawny school owl. Once she finished, she lifted her arm which was supporting the owl, out of the open window, and it took flight. She leaned out of the window and watched it fly away.

Draco stood, supported by the doorframe, struck by how beautiful she--she… was. She was only clad in red, silky boy-shorts, which revealed her firm, lower bottom. She was wrapped up in a white wool cardigan sweater, which was belted loosely. Her fiery hair was waving naturally around her shoulders, tendrils teased in the wind. She looked ethereal in the pale morning light.

Quietly, he shut the door, and began to prepare for a long day.

Ta-da! I wanted to say a big thanks to my beta writer, Zara! Thanks babe to have so much patience with me! And my mistakes! ;)

And I just wanted to tell everyone that chapter one is re-written so go take a look! And finally...leave a...

REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW


	3. Chapter 3

_They all fall down_

_All of the memories just fall away._

Ginny satisfyingly poked the oversized yellow yolk on her plate. It burst, oozing golden mush down the whites of the fried egg. She never really liked the yolk, just the whites. Of their own accord, her eyes darted to the piece of parchment that an owl had dropped her a few moments ago. After quickly re-reading the note, she sighed heavily, aghast that her parents had managed to make it all the way to Hogwarts in a matter of hours. She was hoping for the apocalypse to yield their arrival. Even if the world had ended, they probably would have still shown up.

_Dear Miss Ginervra Weasley,_

_Both you and Mister Malfoy's parents have been summoned for a meeting in my office at eight-thirty this morning. I'm sure you will both want to make your opinions heard. All lost class periods this morning will be excused. _

_Have a good morning._

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to smother the panic that rose up inside of her.

Malfoy vs. Weasley. It was going to get ugly.

She could feel his eyes burning holes in her back. He must have received a letter too. Ginny was shocked that it wasn't a howler from her parents.

_Ignore him, don't look at him. Ignore him, don't look at him._

It was her mantra. She concentrated on her mangled eggs, frowning. What would her poor mum say to her? She could practically hear a bone-splintering howl breaking glass all the way across the castle. And her brothers; she winced. What if they disowned her? She was sure they loved her, they really did. But would they still love her if they knew what she liked?

"Gin, aren't you listening to us?"

Ginny jumped when a hand was laid on her back; Hermione's cool hand. Even Ron had the presence of mind to realize that Ginny wasn't paying him an ounce of attention.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, just great! Um..." she wracked her brain. "So what did you think about that Potions essay, Harry?" She tried to control the hint of hysteria in her voice.

To her relief, the topic was met with distracting grumbles. She faintly heard Ron ranting, "Evil git! How are we supposed to know that fellywog eggs aren't real? That was a right evil trick… it's not even funny the way he wants me to fail…"

She sighed, barely audible. She could sense the change. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, knowing that your life was about to be turned inside-out. She was having enough trouble with that already, and she didn't need outside help. She viciously stabbed at her food.

_Take that Malfoy, for ruining my life._

_Take that for your splendid body…---what am I saying?_

_Take this, you prick for ruining my morning!_

(He had really done nothing _today_, but she liked the feeling of laying it on him.)

_Damn you! I hate you but I like you; hate you hate you hate you! _(Wisely, she returned to her mantra.)

_Stupid prick, slick blond hair, asshole… _her mind sputtered furiously.

_I hate you! Hate you, hate you, hate you--_

"…Hate you, hate you, hate you, hate you--"

"Who do you hate Gin?" Harry asked under his breath, peering curiously at her. Oops. She bit down on her lip.

She shyly glanced up to him, and his intense emerald gaze held hers, concern reflected in them. She smiled rather convincingly.

_So let's have fun. _

"No one, Harry." She brushed up against him, knowing he liked the feel of a girl beside him.

"Is something going on, Gin?" he asked, his eyebrows knit.

"Nah, it's nothing."_ I'm just about to seal my future with Draco Malfoy, your complete enemy. _

She felt Harry scoot closer to her, and he put a friendly arm around her shoulder. She wanted like hell to see Draco's face as he watched the escapade, but she didn't want her eyes to leave Harry's face. She watched him as earnestly as she could manage, and tried to smother the slight feeling of repulsion that was bubbling up inside her. Harry was _so_ just a brother.

"So, did you know that..." He started saying but already her mind was somewhere else. For a moment, she felt extreme distaste spreading from the crown of her head to the balls of her feet. She didn't hate Harry. Really, he was like another brother to her. She looked back at him but the feeling wasn't there anymore. He stopped talking, irritated that she was all of a sudden completely ignoring him, poking at her food again.

She was completely submerged in her thoughts, trapped beneath the ice. It was impossible to feel hatred towards Harry, as thickheaded or ignorant he was. He had a simple charm that had attracted her in the first place. It was the most confusing thing she had ever felt before, this affection and irritation mixed together in her bloodstream. It was completely irrational. But yet, she felt flickers of rage when he put a finger under her jaw, making her look at him, like a child.

"Are you okay? Really okay? Is there something you're not telling me?" He demanded.

She realized his hand was clamped on her arm, a little too tight. She sharply turned her jaw, and wrenched her forearm away from his. She scooted as far against Hermione as she possibly could.

She heard a soft growl. Her eyes darted to _his_ table.

"He's going to be furious," she whispered to herself.

"Ginny—what? Who?"

And she saw him. He was approaching their table, drawing the eyes of all the curious bystanders. His shoulders were tensed, hands curled into fists, ready for a fight. And suddenly, it hit her-- It was _his_ emotions she was suffering from; the roiling rage bubbling inside of her.

Harry shook her lightly, and Ginny cringed away. He doesn't have _any_ idea how much he is worsening the situation! Malfoy was going to make this _ugly_.

"Get your hands _off_ of me, you prick! How _dare_ you?" she shrieked, slapping at his hands which were floundering, bewildered.

"Don't touch me!" She repeated, grabbing her bag. She could feel the burning rage welling up in her and feel it closing in, _he_ was coming _closer._ She tried to free herself but each time, Harry kept her down.

"Bloody hell, Harry! Get your _filthy_ hands off of me," she spat at him, managing to conjure a look of hurt on his face. What was wrong with her? Letting him touch her, stain her? She was _mad_; Ginny shook her head, dispelling these thoughts.

But of course, it was never like Harry to just drop things. Maybe he had good intentions underneath; scared for her. He must have recognized her anxiety, her inability to speak to him.

"Harry please, just..."

"Let go her of Potter now."

Draco sat silently at the Slytherin table, poking his food around, letting the consciousnesses nearby surround him. He soaked in their thoughts. This was so amazing, he thought. He had been taught a little legimens, but this form of prying into the mind was so complex, it made delving into their simple minds quite easy.

Then some less agreeable thoughts floated to the surface of his awareness.

_God, I love her, Ginny Weasley, I do. She's so beautiful, and her eyes… She sucks me in with her fantastic energy. How could anyone not love her? _

Draco sucked in a breath, feeling outraged. Whoever was pining over the she-Weasley needed to bugger off! He dug into that single person's consciousness, shoving all the others away.

_Something must be wrong with her… Ginny isn't responding. She can't tell that I am? _

Draco felt this person's intense longing for her, not unlike his own. But it couldn't be shared. Not _ever_.

The person in question _had his body close to hers_. Draco sought out his euphoric hormones over the simple exchange of heat, and felt his intense happiness. And then, irritation.

_Ginny needs to listen to me. What a bint! Cozies up to me, and then ignores me. Right little whore. _

Draco's mouth fell open, and he saw red. This person, whoever he was, was obviously bitter and sour over the fact that she wasn't paying attention to him… anymore. But to call Ginny Weasley, _his_ Ginny Weasley, a whore! The silver spoon that Draco was gripping bent in half, such was his fury.

Whoever this worthless, bastard, son of a bitch was, he was going to pay. In blood.

Draco's eyes jerked to her table, and spotting her vivid hair, next to her sat the jerk in question. And he should have known all along.

Harry Potter.

Draco threw away the damaged silver fork, and nearly felled the bench he was sitting on as he stood.

"Drakie, where are you going?" Pansy Parkinson had her hand on his elbow. She looked up coyly, a slight smile on her lips. Draco had forgotten her very presence, but in fact, she had been chattering away at him the whole morning.

He shook her off, growling, "Bugger off, Parkinson." Her mouth fell open in outrage, but he stormed off in the direction of Potter before he had time to hear her retort.

Ginny saw it all as if somebody had slowed down time a little. Just enough for her to see it all coming.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes narrowed as he saw Draco.

"What do _you_—" Smash! Draco's fist collided with Harry's jaw, sending him reeling.

The Gryffindor table was in uproar, and they all jumped to their feet to call revenge upon Malfoy, whom they all happened to positively loathe. Granger drew her wand, shrieking shrilly at the both of them. Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom both were yelling and trying to egg on Harry.

Harry's features turned murderous, and he sprang up from the bench and lunged at Draco, who kicked him in the gut the moment he had an opening. There was a collective, "Ooh," from the crowd. They had all formed a thick ring around the two boys who were punching and kicking at each other furiously, and the teachers tried to penetrate. But the other tables had all flooded to the area of activity, and further prevented Dumbledore's arrival, no matter how many people he magicked aside.

Ginny froze where she was, and then she stumbled to her feet. She had to violently shove a few choice people out of the way, and she was in the innermost ring of the crowd. She found herself facing the back of Draco, and she tried to restrain him. He blindly shook away, drawing his arm back for another punch.

She caught his hand, and her voice rang out, "Draco, stop!"

The crowd gasped as he relaxed, and took a step back, and spun to face her. His hair was disheveled, and he sported a cut and a bruise on his cheek. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes were guarded.

"Stop," she whispered, and took hold of his clenched hand. It melted in her touch. She felt his sacrifice, and was grateful.

Hermione and Ron had successfully restrained Harry from hexing Draco senseless while his back was turned. The students surrounding them obediently parted for a horde of teachers to come stomping through.

"There is NOTHING to see here, students! Disperse at once!" McGonagal yelled, waving her wand.

There was an outbreak of angry muttering, and the crowd scattered, gathering their things and leaving the great hall.

Dumbledore stood in between the two opposing parties. Hermione, Ron, and Harry all stared incredulously at Ginny, shock and betrayal on their faces. She couldn't look at them. She buried her face in Draco's shoulder, and his arms tightened around her.

"Miss Granger and Mister Weasley, please accompany Harry to the hospital wing. Harry was clutching at his side, and he was dripping blood. Draco made good work of him, Ginny noted with a small amount of satisfaction.

Hermione had to tug Harry away, but he looked back at her and whispered hesitantly, "Ginny?"

She held her eyes to his, feeling safe by Draco, until he gave up and succumbed to Hermione and Ron. As he walked away, his posture was one of defeat.

"Miss Weasley, I would like you to tend to Mister Malfoy until our meeting at eight-thirty. Don't let him... get into trouble, shall we say?" He looked grave, and then gave her a nod of dismissal. Draco whirled, pulling Ginny along with him out of the Hall.

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Draco tried to soothe his rage. How dare Potter harm her? Threatening her sweet innocence? How could he keep his hands on her, and shake her until her teeth rattled? He could see faint bruises on her arms, and it only served to make him more furious. She could hardly keep up with his fast pace as he tried to disappear as quickly as possible into the recesses of Hogwarts.

Ginny tried to keep up, but after dashing up three long staircases, she had had enough. "Okay, enough! We need to talk." She insisted, refusing to walk any further.

He abruptly stopped but and slowly turned back to her, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remain calm, trying to put some Malfoy sense in him. _Don't get_ _violent now._ _Breath, deeply...just keep..._

"What is your _deal_?" She said loudly, glaring at him defiantly. "He hadn't really done anything to me! Do you not think I can handle that, a simple irritation that he is?" She all but screamed at him. She rounded on him, and got all up in his face. "I _felt_ your fury, but it was not my own. I would have never reacted like a PRICK!"

His eyes flew open, feeling a little insulted. Maybe an understatement. He pushed her into the stone wall, and laid both of his hands heavily onto her shoulders. He was so close to her, he could see that she had a tiny amount of dark blue veined through her brown eyes. It was alluring and gorgeous, deceptive and absolutely charming. He could read everything here, including her impressive Weasley anger.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts and anger, trying to explain himself in a way that was very non-prick-like. His mouth was suspiciously dry.

"I couldn't just sit there and… watch Potter do that to you." His eyes were suddenly vulnerable, and he let them be, because he knew that was the only way to win her over. It worked with every girl. "What kind of mate would that make me? I can't handle any male laying a hand on you. Potter's a jerk."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Her anger was threatening to leave her. How could she be so angry? He was jealous. But yet, she still felt outraged.

"You know what you _did_?" she hissed at him. "I understand that you were _jealous_," she spat, "But the rest of the school doesn't understand why on earth you would be! Now everybody's talking…" She trailed off, slightly horrified at the truths that were spilling out of her mouth.

"You're not the first guy that I've been with, and I haven't even been with you!" And that was over the line, he growled in his mind.

"You WON'T!" He bellowed, horrified. "YOU WILL ONLY BE WITH _ME_!

Just has he said ''_me_'' his lips came crashing down on hers. This was no sweet kiss, hell no. It was a rough kiss, a passionate one, one out of unquenchable thirst. She could do nothing else but close her eyes and respond to him; her body didn't listen to her, it had thoughts of its own. She felt his tongue demanding entrance, her arms twining around his neck as she welded herself to him, she felt one of his legs settling between hers and lift her up, and she opened her mouth for him, he had begged her, begged her with his warm lips. She wrapped her leg around his nimbly, pulling herself even closer. She moaned when his tongue caressed hers, she was getting... getting _so_ turned on. This was wonderful! No one before had ever kissed her like that! This was...

Somebody behind them coughed, and Ginny tried to break away to see who it was. Malfoy had other plans though, trying to capture her mouth again in another kiss. "Mister Malfoy and Miss Weasley!"

Gasping for breath, she tore her mouth away from his and saw professor Snape looking at them. She felt the blood rushing to her face. Draco didn't even bother to stop kissing at her, but then arched his neck down so he could line kisses along her jaw and neck, sucking slightly. It made her shiver, but she was in no way cold. More the opposite. She tried to get out of Draco's grasp but it only made it clutch her harder, and moan softly.

"When you two finish up here, the headmaster is ready to receive you." Then he turned and walked away.

She gulped and he sighed, detaching himself from her, he started to walk away. She heard him say, "Now I need a cold shower!" He had almost slipped around the corner before Ginny shook off her stupor. She started to run after him and yelled,

"Wait for me!"

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Ginny and Draco sat opposite each other in the beautiful, circular room that was the headmaster's office. This was going to be so bad! She avoided the questioning eyes of her parents and the sneers of her… soon-to-be family. Instead, she stared fixedly at the ceiling.

The office was silent. Ginny was playing with her hands nervously, while Draco looked the epitome of poise and calm. When Dumbledore finished explaining there was a long, pregnant silence. The tension of the shock and ill-feeling was so thick, Ginny thought she would suffocate. She held her breath. And it came.

"Is this your idea of a _joke_, Albus?" Mrs. Weasley began in a quiet, deadly voice.

"No, No, NO, NO!" Narcissa Malfoy screamed, standing up and tossing her silky pale-blond hair over her shoulder. "I WILL NOT HAVE THAT BLOOD-BETRAYING _SCUM_ IN MY FAMILY! AS THE MALFOY HEIR!"

"My fortune is in no way, shape, or form, going to that red-headed _wench_!" Mr. Malfoy added, standing up proudly next to his wife, who looked like she was about to start pulling her hair out.

His father's words made Draco hiss and bristle, "Mother! Father!"

They looked at him blankly for a moment, and then his mother stumbled towards him and grabbed the front of his robes. "How could you choose _her_, Draco? Revolting as she is? She probably wouldn't even be a good FUCK!"

Malfoy recoiled, horrified. He glanced at Ginny, a thousand apologies in his eyes.

The elder Weasleys were both standing and yelling at Dumbledore.

"WHY? HOW COULD YOU ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN?"

Dumbledore tried to explain, but trailed away as everybody heard the comment about Ginny having sex with her mate.

Mrs. Weasley positively howled in fury, and she marched up to the tall, willowy blonde and slapped her as hard as she could.

"HOW _DARE_ YOU?! My daughter, my _only_ daughter is not TOUCHING that moronic pond SCUM!"

Lucius Malfoy had a slight smirk on his face at the antics. Unfortunately, Arthur Weasley also saw this, and bubbled in anger at the sight of this. He drew his wand, prompting his enemy to do the same.

At this, Dumbledore stood and placed himself in between the two warring families.

"My daughter is _not_ marrying a Malfoy," Mr. Weasley repeated stubbornly. His wife nodded vigorously beside him.

"There is no _choice_ in the matter, you must understand that!" Dumbledore insisted once again.

"Of course there is a choice! There is always a choice! I cannot allow my only daughter to just... marry him against her will."

"Then he would die, Arthur.," Dumbledore said gravely.

"I don't care! There's going to be one less Malfoy on earth! I'm not letting my baby girl..."

"Shut your mouth, Weasley! I am not allowing her filthy blood into my family. I'd rather Draco marry a muggle!" Lucius insisted.

"My daughter is better than your stupid..."

"Don't finish that!"

"Lucius!" yelled Narcissa.

"Arthur!" yelled Molly.

The two men looked at their wives, aghast.

"I don't like this family too Arthur, but I'm not letting this poor child die because of it! You hear me? I'm no child killer!" said Molly.

Arthur blinked, outraged.

"_But Molly_!"

"The discussion is closed Arthur! Shut up before I make you!" Molly looked into her husband eyes and saw the unswayable determination in her eyes. He didn't doubt her threats, so he backed down.

Lucius started to laugh but stopped when he looked in the blue eyes of his wife. She didn't have to talk; he knew they were no going to go against it. It was her wish.

"I don't want my son to die. And neither should you," she said simply. The two father glared at the floor, defeated.

The two children looked at their parents, eyes wide.

"Wait, so is this settled? No more shouting, no more arguing?" asked Ginny, incredulous.

"Sweetheart, it's your decision, not ours. I guess it is your choice," Molly told her, patting her daughter's hand.

Ginny blinked and glanced up at Lucius Malfoy who was glaring daggers at her; She looked at Narcissa, who stared back at her level-headedly. The woman may be married to a miserable man, but she would do anything for her son.

_She knows what I'm going through!_

She bit her lips and looked at Draco who was looking at the floor. This was it. She could escape him; she could say no and let him die! His eyes met hers and again, she saw emotion only she could see. She saw their kiss, so sensual, so full of passion.

_Just say no._

Her head started to throb painfully.

_Say No Ginny, let him rot in hell!_

She was beginning to get dizzy, and her lungs were simply not drawing in enough oxygen.

_This is your only chance. Take it! Take it and run away!_

She looked back at him. She saw nothing, no more emotions. Where were they? She wanted to see them more. She wanted another kiss. She wanted everything else. She wanted to see him smile for once...

_Don't think like that! Take your chance!_

"Miss Weasley? A sickle for your thoughts?" ask the headmaster.

Her gaze stayed glued on Draco. Suddenly, she realized. She did have no choice.

"I will be his."

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_Ta-da! Thanks to my beta reader!_

_Leave a review!!!!!!!!!!_


	4. Chapter 4

They All Fall Down

_I can make you see the beauty of a new sun_

_The fire I hold_

_Or_

_I can be the source of your desperation. _

_I always win._

Day I.

Draco was having one of those horrid, miserable days. When trying to pick the dangerous mind of Daphne Greengrass, it happened. He dug into the consciousness where her thoughts should have been, and found nothing. At first, he was amused. He had suspected that her mind was that blank before.

But it was kind of weird. There should be at least a fleeting thought, emotion, _something_. It was just a void. Then, it hit him. This was how it was _normally_. How it used to have been for him. Anyone could focus and stare as hard as they could at the back of someone's head; it didn't mean there was a psychic connection.

Damn! Draco focused on the simple mind of Pansy Parkinson. Greengrass must have had some kind of mental barrier up. But even Pansy's brain was inaccessible to him. Wildly, he tried to pry the mind of the dozen Slytherins lounging around the common room. Nothing. Draco cursed and stormed away. His powers were gone!

He stormed all the way to the Gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office.

"Lemon Drop!" he shouted. The stone gargoyle refused to move. It didn't even flinch.

"Fizzing Whizbees! Sugar Quill! Chocolate Frog! Fainting Fancies!" With the last Weasley's Wizard Wheezes sweet, the gargoyle leapt aside, revealing a twisting stone staircase circling upwards.

Draco pounded on the door, silencing an array of conversations inside.

"Come in!" the fool called cheerily from behind the door. Draco shoved the door open and stalked in.

"How come I don't have my powers anymore?" He demanded immediately, flopping with feline grace onto the spindly chair opposite Dumbledore's desk.

"Ah," said Dumbledore, and he laid down the sugar quill he had been scribbling with a moment before. He folded his hands serenely under his chin and gazed with a twinkly blue stare at Draco. Draco met his eyes with a glare.

"When a young veela is pressed to find his mate quickly," Dumbledore began gently, "extra powers are attainted to aid his search. Primal ligillimens is one of those powers."

"WHAT?" Draco exploded. "Are you telling me that now that I've got my mate I don't have—"he sputtered.

"Yes. With the exception of Miss Weasley."

Draco pondered this for a moment, and then reached out for her consciousness.

At the moment, Ginny was in Potions class, trying futilely to concoct the drought of living death. He felt her high frustrations and felt equally frustrated. Desperately, she dropped in a long, curly coconut shaving, and the potion began to slosh around, slopping onto the stone floor. She shrieked and jumped away from the puddle near her foot which was starting to sizzle through the solid floor. Her cursing brought Professor Slughorn's attention and he waddled over, vanishing the puddle with his wand and reprimanding her.

At that moment, Draco withdrew his presence from her. It had calmed him, and he was able to talk evenly with Dumbledore.

"Good. Well, that is all, headmaster. I should be in Herbology soon." And he exited the light-filled, circular room.

At five minutes to eight at night, Draco hurried along the darkened corridors to the dungeons. He knew Ginervra was furious with him, absolutely barking mad. For one, he had landed them both in detention for a month. And secondly, it was for the most moronic, brainless reason. At least that was what she told him.

In Transfiguration, Potter had slipped Ginervra a tiny swatch of parchment. Draco, who was perched protectively by her side, had read the untidy scrawl out of the corner of his eye.

_Ginny, what are you, mad? You've betrayed us all. I can't believe you've done this to me; Hermione, and your very own family. For what? Surely you wouldn't pick that bloody bastard prick over me? _

Ginny's jaw dropped in a silent gasp, and her slight shoulders shook. Draco gaped at her, watching a tiny drop of moisture trickle out of the inner corner of her eye. It rolled down her face, glossing over the dusted freckled skin of her nose, and dropped onto the scrap of parchment. She bit down on her plump lower lip, trying very hard to keep silent.

A menacing growl echoed in the back of his throat. He reached a pale hand over and snatched the piece of parchment out of her shaking hands. With a quiet _rip_, he tore the parchment to shreds with his long, lithe fingers.

He grabbed her hand and held her freezing, trembling hand in his lap, holding tightly. She gave him a disbelieving look, and then looked down. She squeezed back.

Harry leaned over and hissed, "_Get your hands away from her, Ferret!"_

Draco gave him his best haughty, iced stare. "_Drop dead, Potter_." He then smirked, as if to say, _look who's got the girl_.

Harry jumped up, completely flushed and furious. "RELASHIO!" he shouted, jabbing his wand towards their entwined hands. Involuntarily, they released each other, their hands stinging painfully. Draco lunged for his wand, and not even bothering to voice an incantation, waved his wand at Harry, who was tossed back like a rag doll, colliding with an absolutely flabbergasted Professor McGonagall. The force of the impact knocked them both into the professor's desk, sending stacks of papers into the air.

Ginny, far from being aghast at Draco's rash action, was equally furious. Her cheeks were stinging from an angry flush, and she jumped to her feet as well. Harry untangled himself from McGonagall and was trying to stand.

"HARRY! HOW COULD YOU?" She shrieked, drawing her wand as well. "You are _the_… _biggest_… _prat_ in the ROOM!" Ginny brandished her wand violently, and great flapping bat bogeys were attacking his face. Harry flailed, trying to swat them away, and in the process, he fell over McGonagall and hit his head on her desk and slumped, unmoving.

Draco straightened his robes and came to stand next to Ginny, taking her hand in his. He unfurled her clenched fist, and it melted like butter in his hand. He wrapped an arm around her protectively, and they both somberly watched Professor McGonagall attempt to stand in a dignified way.

Her severe bun was falling out, wisps of dark silver hair falling messily in her eyes and past her shoulders. Her hat had slipped sideways, and her eyes were bulging. McGonagall tried to prop herself up on her desk, but slipped on the parchment littering the floor. Her robes were haphazard, revealing a protruding collarbone and frail shoulder.

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil both rushed to her side to help her up.

When she was finally upright, she was so furious, she couldn't speak. Her mouth was a thread, and all the innocent students backed against the wall.

Then she swung her hand forward, pointing her finger dead center and the pair of Draco and Ginervra. "YOU! AND YOU! _DETENTION_!" She shrieked wildly, pushing rampant strands of hair away. She whirled, jabbing her finger at the unconscious Harry. "YOU TOO—Oh dear. Potter…"

Ginny had dragged him out of the class, yelling at him. "MALFOY, YOU PRAT! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO GO AND JINX HIM! OF ALL THE MORONIC, BRAINLESS THINGS TO DO—"

"YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE THAT DECIDED TO JINX THE PRAT, REMEMBER?" he shouted back, slightly paler than usual. "YOU SENT THOSE BLASTED BAT-BOGEYS AT HIM! I STILL REMEMBER THE LAST TIME YOU DID THAT TO ME! LANDED YOURSELF IN A MONTH'S DETENTION WITH US, DIDN'T YOU, RED?"

Ginny stomped her foot, uttered something between a growl and a shriek, and stormed away. Draco hadn't seen her since that afternoon, and their very first detention was tonight. McGonagall, not being Draco's head of house, had collaborated with Snape to give all three of them the most foul detentions that they had ever imagined in the history of Hogwarts.

Hesitantly, Draco put his ear to the door of the potions room, where their first detention was to be served. He heard the muffled tones of his mate, low and furious. There was a silence, and then, Harry's plainative tones retorted something moronic. Draco flinched back from the door. He could hear Snape shouting about _rash, incompetent nitwits…_

Bracing himself, he pushed through the dungeon door. Ginny and Harry both were perched on desks on opposite sides of the room. A column of midnight-black robes, Snape, stood formidable between them. Professor Slughorn's squat form was hastily shoving parchment into his bag, bent over double by his desk, very clearly eager to quit the room.

"Ah, I see that the last _rash, incompetent nitwit_ has decided to join us, five minutes late," Snape sneered nastily, folding his arms against his chest. "So that would be… five points from Slytherin for each minute."

Draco's back stiffened, and he ground his teeth. Potter had flashed a wide grin and gave a slight snigger at him from behind Snape's back.

The slimy git whirled onto Harry, and whispered sleekly, "And fifty points from you, for disrupting everybody's valuable time."

Draco smirked, and he saw Ginny trying to hide a smile from the corner of his eye.

"Now," he smiled demonically, "You miscreants will be doing unpleasant tasks for Professor Slughorn. The first thing you have to do is to take these frogs," he waved a hand at a barrel of dead frogs, "and remove their livers. The professor needs 400 frog livers. You will use no magic, and," he smirked, "no gloves."

Ginny cringed and tried not to gag.

"The only tool you are permitted to use are these scalpels," he held up three. "To dissect the frog and remove it's liver."

Professor Slughorn scooped up his bag and tried to waddle out of the room unnoticed, but his crystallized pineapple spilled from his pocket, and he cursed rather loudly.

Snape gave him a look of loathing, and he mouthed, "Sorry." He gave Ginny and Harry a rather sympathetic look and then sped out of the room.

Snape then billowed out after him, sneering behind him, "Get. Busy."

Draco stared, horrified after him. Then he gaped at the dead amphibians. He was going to… have to… put his _hands_… _in frog guts_? He'd be the first Malfoy in the entire bloody line to do anything of the sort! No bloody way…

Harry, who had already plucked a slimy frog from the barrel sneered, "What, Malfoy? Worried you might break a nail?"

Malfoy turned his back to him, and stalked over to Ginny. She glared at him, and when he reached a hand out for her, she swatted him away. He smirked at her and whispered in her ear.

"The thing that would infuriate your friend the most is the only thing that could possibly be pleasant for _us_," he insinuated, his breath on her neck making the hairs rise. She gave him an incredulous look, and then a slow, sultry smirk came over her face.

"Sounds good!" she agreed, and his lips crashed down on hers. They started furiously making out, pressed as close together as possible. Draco slid her back on the desk, and she wrapped her leg around his.

"UGH!" Harry shouted, dropping his frog. "THAT'S MORE BLOODY REVOLTING THAN THE FROG!"

_Disclamer : We're sorry it took so long! We've been extremely busy with school._

_Recently, something bad happened to someone I know, and this chapter is dedicated to him, because I'll never see him again. The person I lost was someone I knew since I could walk, and he was a dear friend to our family. He killed himself. Because things at home weren't so good. He hurt a lot of people. _

_Please don't think it's just teens who do those things. He was 49. Remember this: SUICIDE IS NOT THE ANSWER!_

_Beta/co-author note: Statistically, for every person who commits suicide, there are at least six people who are traumatized. Those people are called 'suicide survivors' and I'm so sorry that the author is one of them. Even if you feel like nobody would miss you at all, you would still affect these people in a horrible way. It's selfish. The pain that those survivors are experiencing sometimes leads to suicide as well. You're not just killing yourself, you're killing those close to you too. _

_I wanted to thanks my beta reader who's also my co-writer :_ _xfinishedinadayx (go read her fanfictions! She's brilliant.)_

_I just want to send out a huge THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed and waited for us! Leave another! The next chapter, coming much sooner than last time!_


	5. Chapter 5

They all fall down

The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can never end.

-Benjamin Disraeli

_Day VII._

Draco couldn't find her. She wasn't in the library, she wasn't in their rooms, she wasn't anywhere, as he found. She was gone.

Draco had even asked her foul, tactless brother of her whereabouts. The redhead had only given him a scathing look. "Lost her, have you?" he sneered, and tottered off, looking for Potter and Granger.

How could they even be of the same kin?

The usually cool and detached blonde was panicking by now, even if he could perfectly mask it. He was hurrying along the fifth-floor corridor, towards the hospital wing, when he heard a bone-chilling, simpering voice behind him.

"_Drakie_! I haven't seen you in ages!"

Pansy Parkinson burst out of nowhere, and draped herself on his arm. Shivers ran up and down his back, and he shuddered.

"Off," he commanded, wrenching his arm from her grasp. How could he ever had shagged her? Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. "I'm busy, Parkinson," he said in a cool warning voice and continued to stalk hurriedly down the corridor.

"Draco! Wait!" she called, and something in the tone of her voice made him slow.

"_What_," he drawled, turning to face her.

"I heard the most… ridiculous rumor. About the Weasley."

Draco flinched on the inside, but smirked at her. "Which one?"

"You know which one!" She shrieked, stamping her foot. "They are saying that you two are _deeply_ _involved_," she continued sarcastically, "But whether I would consider fucking her as deep as they suggest is another matter entirely…"

Cold fury poured into his brain, and for a single irrational moment, he wished nothing more to backhand the whore. "You are utterly absurd," he said, ice in every syllable.

"You deny it then?" she demanded eagerly, her sapphire eyes glinting in the candlelight.

"Absolutely not," he dismissed casually, but he knew of the uproar his words would cause in the common rooms of Slytherin.

A look of horror came over her face. "NO! You are _not_ involved with the weaselette! What are your motives? I doubt the virgin wench is better than I."

Draco sighed as if the encounter was more pain and suffering than it was worth. Which was definitely the case. "You know of my veela ancestry," he said slowly, as if talking to a small child. Pansy scowled and then nodded once.

"Ginervra Weasley is my mate. Nothing you, nor I, can do will change that," he warned softly, his expression darkened.

Pansy's expression soured considerably. "So be it," she hissed and stormed away. Draco knew that every Slytherin would be aware within the hour of his betrayal.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Gin, I'm still confused," Hermione admitted, tossing a rock into the lake.

"So am I, a bit," she answered. "It's like he morphed overnight into a human. But really. He _was_, all along, but couldn't show it. You know that. He wasn't even his own person, but more of his father's loyal servant."

"And now that his father is under ministry surveillance, he hasn't had a chance to make his son do anything" Hermione finished for her. "Malfoy's a bit different, I guess. Less pressure on him."

"He really is!" Ginny defended earnestly. "He really, truly is," she repeated, her voice softer.

"You _have_ to talk to Harry about this," Ginny insisted in a low, urgent tone. "He won't listen to me! He won't even talk to me anymore; and I don't really want to talk to him either, after that day in Transfiguration. But I do wish he could understand," she said mournfully.

Hermione shook her head and clucked her tongue. "You know Harry," she said. "He would never accept this. He and Malfoy have been at it since the very first day they arrived here. How could he just forget what he's done to you? To me?"

Hermione sighed and tilted her head back at the sky. "It looks like rain. We better get in."

The moment the words were from her mouth, raindrops started to splatter onto their heads. They ran for cover under a large oak, but by the time they got there, they were completely soaked. The rain sheeted down, making the glass surface of the lake appear to be boiling.

Ginny tilted her head back and laughed. "Damn it all!" she called to Hermione, and they leisurely walked up to the castle amidst the downpour.

Hermione poked her head through the doors, looking right and left. "Filch is gonna kill us if he sees us dragging mud through here!"

Ginny slipped in, and a frantic voice called from her left, "Ginny!"

It was Draco. He hurried up to them, the relief evident on his face. "I've been looking all over for you!" It must have been true; he was trying to catch his breath. "Is it raining outside?" he said, perplexed, taking in her soaked clothing.

Ginny smiled blissfully. "It's pouring," she said cheerfully, tousling her sodden hair.

"Hello, Granger," Draco said, not unpleasantly, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged. Hermione shot a surprised look in Ginny's direction, and the redhead looked particularly smug.

"Y'know, you really shouldn't be out there in the rain. You'll get sick," Draco reprimanded. "And don't you have Charms now?"

"No," Ginny said, her smile fading slightly. "It's my free period. Do you always have to know my immediate whereabouts? I'll be okay. I'm not going to get kidnapped."

He scowled. "Fine. Go off and do what you were doing before I cared."

"Fine!" she yelled, storming away. Hermione stood there awkwardly, next to a fuming Draco. He ran his fingers through his white-blonde hair, making it untidy.

"Is she always like this?" he demanded, and then stalked away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Draco stayed away from the dorms all day. He didn't want to see her. Actually, he was humiliated. Why had he admitted that he cared? The admission only gave her the power to hurt him. And nobody had the right to do that to a Malfoy.

As far as he knew, she skipped all her classes for that day. She was still sulking. Immature brat.

It was nearing curfew, and Draco was tired of Slytherins coming up to him and demanding whether the rumors were true. Blaise was furious with him and didn't even grace him with his presence. Some Ravenclaw actually came up to him and asked Draco what her bra size was! Draco knew, but he snarled at the kid anyways.

Finally, he was just tired. He trudged up to the dorms, defeated. He could just ignore her; she was probably in her room anyways.

He gave the password and collapsed on the bed immediately. He scrunched his eyes together, willing them to _not_ conjure a picture of her, her dripping wet robes clinging to every curve and crevice like a second skin. He groaned and rolled over, pressing a pillow over his head.

She was so beautiful.

He reached out to her consciousness, curious to see if she was still angry at him. He wanted to kiss her again.

Something was wrong. She was in another sphere, her body shedding its skin over and over, her mind hallucinating. In her mind, she got herself a glass of water to sooth her desert throat again and again and again. She didn't realize that she hadn't moved at all.

Draco burst through her bedroom door, and there she was, sprawled on her bed. Her face was paper-white, her hair like a blood stain. There was a light sheen on her forehead, little droplets forming.

He tried to shake her awake, but she was unresponsive. Ginny was still in her wet robes from that morning, never having changed out of them.

He laid a hand on her cheek. She was burning! Her blood boiling from the inside out. She moaned, thrashing slightly. Draco checked her pulse, and it was very fast, as if a butterfly was trying to escape from her veins.

Fever.

A terrible emotion filled Draco. She was dying! She was going to die if he didn't help her. He grabbed his wand, and conjured a glass of water. He tipped it to her lips, and it trickled out of sight. She licked her lips, and her eyes opened a little.

"Water?" she rasped.

"Yeah," he said, relief spreading through his body. He tipped it again to her mouth, and she took a huge gulp. He tried to help her up, supporting her back with his hands, but she fell limp, and he laid her carefully back on the bed.

"Ginny! Why did you go out in the rain?" He groaned, mentally kicking himself.

She was shaking all over. Her teeth chattered as she tried to answer. "I had… to ask… Hermione…."

"Shhh," he soothed her. "Don't talk."

Instead, he took her face in his hands and blew on her cheeks, trying to cool them. It seemed to make her colder, but he knew that she was really burning up. He had to get the temperature down.

He pulled the heavy comforter off of her, and with shaking hands, pulled her sodden robe off her shoulders. He tilted her, pulling it out from under her, and he tossed it aside the bed. He kneeled on the bed, unbuttoning her shirt, revealing her milky white skin, dappled with dustings of Weasley freckles. Her gorgeousness struck him again, with more force than the last. She was wearing a pale blue cotton bra, and he averted his eyes, trying to stay focused. His hands slid down her flat stomach, deftly pulling her uniform trousers down her legs, which were long, shapely, and dappled with light freckles like the rest of her. Her underwear matched the bra.

Draco then shrugged of his own robe, and tossed it aside. He removed his shoes and socks, and laid next to her, pulling her fevered body close. Then he covered both their bodies with a sheet.

Her ragged breath seemed to quiet. The only thing he could hope to do now was take her fever away.

The last thing he heard before his eyes closed was their heartbeats mingling, their blood pulsing through their entangled limbs. It soothed him like a lullaby.

It assured him they were both still alive.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Draco," she murmured, tossing in her sleep.

His eyes fluttered open, responsive to the soft, melodic sound of her voice. Where was he?

_Oh yeah_, Draco thought, the past forty-eight hours coming back to him. His arms encircled his mate, pulling her barely clothed form against him. She had kicked away the sheet in the night, and the bedding surrounding her was drenched in sweat. Her fever had broken.

Draco sighed in relief, and then pressed his lips softly to hers. "Mmm… wake up."

Ginny scrunched her nose and then threw an arm over her eyes. "Ughh…"

"Can you hear me?" he whispered.

"No… Go away," she moaned, her lips twitching up in a smile.

"Okay, you're getting up now. You've been asleep for hours." Draco sat up, looking around. "And you're fever broke," he added, smug.

"Hmm," she murmured, sounding thoughtful. "I had a fever, did I? I don't even remember. Did you bring me back from the hospital wing?"

Draco looked away. "No."

She sat up and stared at him. "What? I wasn't at the hospital wing?"

He looked away sharply, not daring to meet her eyes. Draco knew that if he was allowed to stare into her warm eyes, he would be transparent. Every secret that he ever had would be divulged… The true horror of the Malfoy line—they _do_ have feelings. Draco wasn't sure why his ancestors had tried to erase the human emotion, but it was still passed on through the generations. And after eighteen years of practice, it was nearly impossible to dredge up the feelings and let them show on his patrician features.

"No," he muttered, cursing himself.

"No?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. Draco risked a glance at her, and froze. He saw her eyes studying his face, and the realization spread over her face like a sunrise.

"Oh."

She had seen the dark, bruise-like circles that he got when he slept poorly, the ripple of consternation on his perfect brow. The way the corners of his mouth turned down slightly… all the little clues that his father had never managed to erase, never managing to succeed. These signs that would always show on his face, would always give him away.

"You took care of me," she murmured, running her hand along his stubbly cheek. It was shockingly intimate to him, this touch. She held everything, all her emotions on her sleeve. And, she had the power to convey certain warmth she held, with a grazing of her soft hands.

It was so incredible to him.

"Amazing," he whispered, his eyes locked on hers. He was grappling with the emotions that rose up inside of him, but they had the advantage of surprise and the unknown. He ached for her so completely, it hurt his insides. Suddenly, he realized. Those Malfoys before him, they were only trying to protect themselves. The ache in his abdomen, it was like being kicked in the gut. It was a certain pain that not even a Malfoy upbringing could defeat. But sometimes, it's easier to lock it out than fight with it.

But Draco had seen what had happened to a body once you locked out the pain. It was a shell, with all good things gone. He had seen it in his father, who had never loved his mother. Every damn thing. And there was one thing that Ginny helped Draco realize.

That he couldn't be like that.

"What?" Ginny whispered back, her eyes widening. She amazed him. Instead of instinctually shrinking back from such a brazen statement, her body arched up to him, her rushing blood aching for his.

How could she so eagerly want his words? Didn't she know how much power he held to hurt her? He could feel it laying on him heavily, her weakness. And the thing that scared him the most, was himself. That he would use that power. That he would hurt her and let her down.

His head rushed with the fierce tenderness that coursed through his every vein. Nothing would ever hurt her again. Not Potter, not the Dark Lord, not even himself.

Draco drew in a ragged breath and closed his eyes for a moment. "You need to help me, Ginny," he whispered fiercely, scarcely believing what he was about to say.

"I think I love you."

He only heard her sharp intake of breath. And then a painful anxiety settled over him. He could practically hear her thoughts. _A Malfoy could never love._ It was the same thought that he had repeated in his own thoughts throughout his life. It could never work.

There was a horrible, thick silence, that Draco felt would suffocate him. He couldn't bring his mouth to say another single word; it was still burning with his last.

But then suddenly, her finger was under his chin, tilting his face towards hers. He forced himself to meet her eyes, and an electric current zapped through his body.

Her eyes were wet, and her full lips were curved into a small smile. She was crying. Her dark eyelashes glistened with her tears. Draco could only stare. He was confused… he couldn't imagine why she would cry, but the relief that she wasn't horrified or repulsed was so strong that he couldn't move at all.

In a single moment of silence, Draco felt a click. Their lives were connected, as nothing had ever been before. And then he realized… the attachment was physical. Their heartbeats had mingled as one. They kept on, beating in absolute synchronization, for a second that seemed like an eternity.

Her smile grew wider.

"Amazing," she whispered back, and he brushed away a tear with his thumb.

And nothing could stop the identical smile that spread across his face. He had her. He held her in her arms, and had completely captured her. Or more likely, she had completely captured him.

He shifted forward, and caught her lips in a soft kiss. They intermingled tenderly, eagerly. The pulse of the kiss matched their beating hearts. Her fingers tangled in his glossy blonde hair that had been mussed up with sleep, and he rested his hand on the pulse point on her neck. The beat went quicker under his hand, and he felt his own heart race to match hers. Draco felt himself being pulled, as if by a tide. The world was flat, and the farther he was pulled, the closer he was to the edge, to be sent cascading with the waterfall that vanished into space.

_And it was amazing._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hoorah! I have AWESOME news!

My college accepted me! I'm going be a NURSE!! Cheers for me!

Again thanks to my beta/ co-author XFinishedinadayX, you're awesome babe! I hope you know I love ya right:P

and thanks to all those who reviewed and gave me words of encouragement! It helps so much. I LOVE YOU ALL!

Now you see that button below? Yes, that one. Click on and give us a

REVIEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Schemes at the Malfoy Manor

- - - - -

A/N—Sorry for the delay!!!

Disclaimer: Neither of us are taking credit for Harry Potter, the gorgeous Draco Malfoy, or any other characters or past books. We are currently not making a cent off this either. If we could, we probably would, though.

- - - - -

"This is just not acceptable, Narcissa," Lucius Malfoy hissed across the table, his rage apparent in his icy eyes. "What if he exposed us all," he sneered, "For the sake of his _precious_ blood-traitor weasel!" His fist slammed down on the glossy dark mahogany table angrily.

Narcissa refused to allow her ram-rod straight body to flinch, but maintained her ice demeanor. "I cannot let you kill my son," she forced through her gritted teeth.

"If he betrayed the dark lord, he would kill us all!"

Narcissa laid one pale, elegant hand gently on the table and whispered, "How do you know he would do such a thing?"

"Narcissa, he will refuse the mark. That alone is enough reason for the Dark Lord to kill him, wouldn't you say? He knows too much, and won't swear loyalty. There's not much more I can do."

The Malfoy missus's face blanched ashen. "He's our only son. The Malfoy line would die with us. I can't let that happen."

Malfoy senior snorted. "So you would rather be disgraced beyond hope? I thought you were _better_ than that," he sneered. "Haven't I told you? I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN BE DISHONORED BY MY VERY OWN DAMNED SON!" Lucius shouted, his voice echoing against the frigid, elegant interior of the Malfoy manor sitting room.

Narcissa was frozen by his outburst. But she understood. Or, at least she thought she did, until her husband smirked, chuckling under his breath. His silver, sinister gaze then locked on hers, and he said quietly, "And I want to kill him myself."

Narcissa remained as frozen as a snake, with its eyes locked on its prey. Inside, though, was a very different battle. She could not allow her husband to murder her only son. If he did, she would be forced to kill him, and she would be left with nothing more to live for. If she somehow could allow Draco to remain alive and with his despicable choice in mate, he would betray them, one way or another. It simply could not work. _Nothing could possibly work in this situation! _She thought in despair. Either way, somebody is going to die. _Oh, what has the Malfoy line become of?_

And then it hit her, like a battering ram. The horrifying, most terrible conclusion she could possibly come to, but nothing else would leave her alive. And that's what Slytherins top priority always was: put yourself before others, always. And Draco, her only son, was second on the priority list.

Her pale lips curved into a smirk. "Yes," she finally said, breaking the tense silence. "Yes, you are right, Lucius. Something _must_ be done."

- - - - -

To the Gringotts Goblin of whom it concerns,

I have a request of you that must be carried out as expeditiously and as discreetly as possible. Empty the entire contents of Vault 904 into Vault 586, and make it completely inaccessible to Mr. Lucius Malfoy. I trust this will be done within the next 24 hours.

Narcissa Malfoy

- - - - -

She penned this as quickly as possibly and handed it to a bumbling house elf at her feet. "To Gringotts, _immediately_, and do not let this letter fall into the hands of anyone else, or you will be dismissed," she ordered.

The elf cried, "Of course, of course!" And dissapparated with a resounding _crack_. The thought of her husband waking to the noise was ridiculous to her and never crossed her mind, because Lucius slept in an entirely different wing of the manor, if he even slept there at all.

And it was a good thing, too. House elves bustled around her legs, emptying the contents of her bedroom into a magical suitcase that was charmed to hold as many possessions as you wished to fit into it. She had ordered the lowly creatures to be as silent as the grave, but occasionally they dropped a shoe or something and they were forced to kick themselves as punishment. Narcissa rather liked this arrangement. It saved her the trouble of kicking them herself.

The vast room was looking rather empty now; almost all her things were gone. In fact, she was sure that the rest of the manor looked a little empty as well. House elves had been scurrying back and forth to retrieve all her prized Black family heirlooms… and there were quite a few of them as well.

There was only one thing left for her to do. She used her wand to push aside her enormous Sleep Enchanted bed aside and out of the way. Beneath the bed was a small trap door which opened to a tiny, shoe-box sized chamber. She kneeled and emptied almost all the contents of the chamber into a silk canvas bag and passed it off to an elf. Narcissa then stood, clutching a small crystal vial to her chest. Then she snapped her fingers and an elf materialized at her knees.

"I _order_ you to dump this entire vial into Master Lucius's morning scotch," she commanded, entrusting her precious vial with a pearl stopper to the wide-eyed elf. "If this is not carried out, you will immediately be dismissed." The elf's eyes widened and he shook his head hastily.

Within the gorgeous vial was a potion so deadly it killed within a fraction of a second. It was colorless and impossible to detect by an unsuspecting victim. There was certain ways to detect it, if you were looking for it; and Narcissa was one-hundred percent sure that the despicable Lucius Malfoy would never even know what hit him.

- - - - -

Narcissa stared at the elegant wood door less than a foot away from her face. Was she _really_ going to go through with this? The entire concept of sacrificing her pride and dignity was so completely revolting that it nearly knocked her right back down the spiral staircase. But it was all for her son, she thought firmly. _All for Draco. _

Pure force brought her hand to come in contact with the door, and she knocked three times. "Come in!" a cheerful voice called from within. What an old fool. Did he realize how much of a fool he sounded?

She entered the door, and saw her old headmaster's look of surprise before he swapped it for a sodding welcoming smile.

"Missus Malfoy, well, what a surprise. Please, take a seat," he offered. "What do I owe the pleasure?" he set down his ridiculously flamboyant flamingo feather quill and crossed his fingers thoughtfully.

Narcissa walked stiffly over to the chair he gestured towards and gracefully lowered herself into it. "I have found myself in… a predicament. And I need…" she sighed inaudibly and ground the words out, "…your protection."

Naturally, Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "From whom, may I ask?"

Ugh, she was just going to have to say it. Narcissa growled two words under her breath.

"Excuse me, what was that?" he asked, still polite and cheerful. "My hearing grows old," he smiled kindly. If he smiled again, Narcissa was going to have to claw his lips off.

"My husband!" she exploded, and the phoenix sleeping on a perch nearby startled. "He is going to murder my son, and we both need immediate protection! Do I need to repeat myself?" she snapped.

"My, my…. Yes, that would be a problem." He said gravely. _At least he isn't smiling_, a voice in her mind reminded her.

His gaze was raised to hers, and she noted that his eyes didn't twinkle as they usually did. "And how far are you willing to go to receive this protection, if I may ask?"

Narcissa glared at her old headmaster. "I would die for him," she whispered. And they both knew exactly who she was talking about.

Dumbledore stared at her for a few more solid seconds before he questioned, "Then how loyal are you, Missus Malfoy?"

Narcissa gave him an icy smirk. "I can tell you things that would destroy him," she promised.

"Well, well, well… then I believe we have a deal. But this isn't the place for you," he said knowingly. "There is another location that you may reside with your son that would be impregnable to Lucius Malfoy and anyone he is affiliated with. I can guarantee your safety, if you can give me your word that whatever is discussed within those walls _stays_ within those walls.

Narcissa fixed her ice blue eyes on Dumbledore's and said firmly, "I have no choice."

- - - - -

Draco's mind was numb as he hurried along the corridors as quickly as he could. He had to get to his dormitory and leave Hogwarts in less than an hour. _No, it was unbelievable!_ Running away, like some bloody coward! And his father… well, Draco already knew that something had to be going on. There was no way that his father would allow him to remain with a Weasley and live. They would simply have to kill him. There was no other way that they could betray him and survive, he knew. Draco longed to be able to discuss this with Mother away from the fool headmaster's prying eyes.

His entire body was buzzing as he stormed through the portrait hole.

"Draco!" Ginny jumped up from the chair, waiting anxiously on edge. "What did Dumbledore want with you? Are you _expelled_? Oh, what have you done now?" she cried, wringing her hands. It was almost insulting that she automatically assumed that he was the one picking the fights, he mused cynically. Normally, this would be true. But now, it was just ironic.

"My bastard father," he yelled, walking straight on through to his room. "He's going to kill me. If I stick around," Draco called behind him.

"No!" Ginny gasped, on his heels. "You have to be joking!"

Draco glared at her. "Then that's the most ridiculous joke I've ever heard," he swore.

"So you're leaving?" Ginny squeaked, aghast. "Me?"

He snarled, jabbing his wand at his dresser. The clothes flew out of the drawers and neatly into the open suitcase on his bed. "Don't be absurd. I'm not leaving _you_. I have no choice. My mother's dragging me into hiding. Do you really think I _want_ to go?" his voice was scathing, and Ginny flinched from the venom in it.

"No," she whispered. "I don't want you to go either…" Draco merely ignored her, still emptying the contents of his closet.

"Listen to me!" She shrieked suddenly, grabbing his shirt collar. "Stay safe for me, okay? For me. Promise me," she demanded.

His eyes softened, although his lips stayed pressed in an angry line. "I promise," he murmured, and brushed his lips harshly across hers. "For you."

And he was gone. She heard the portrait hole slam behind him. Ginny's eyes burned. He was gone.

"Dammit, Draco Malfoy!" she yelled after him.

- - - - -

This chapter was written by xfinishedinadayx…Please, please, please leave feedback; leave reviews!! Even if it's only two words, they make our day.

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	7. Chapter 7

They All Fall Down

_Don't you know what I'm thinking?_

_Know that I'm thinking?_

_You know I miss you_

_ Don't you know that I miss you?_

_I toast to you_

_Your whisper_

_Your smile_

-If You Don't Don't, by Jimmy Eat World 

"_Damn!_" Draco cursed loudly, lobbing a heavy textbook across the room. The dull_ thud_ it made on the moth-eaten carpet failed to improve his mood. If he continued to study, he was going to turn into a bloody Granger. What the hell was he doing here?

The entire house was decrepit and reeked of stale potions and rotting hardwood. It was the last place he expected Dumbledore's self-righteous Order of the Phoenix to hold headquarters. In the shadows.

An acute sense of claustrophobia was creeping over him, but he didn't dare leave the room. The first time he stepped out into the dank hallway, he happened to trip over a doxy nest and about five full-grown doxies attacked him. All his shouting and cursing caused a bunch of sleeping portraits to wake up and scream insults until they were bloody hoarse. Frightened the hell out of him.

And then, even if he managed to make it outside the door unharmed, he would inevitably run into the inhabitants of the house, which were definitely worse than a couple of doxy bites.

They didn't trust him. None of them did. And he couldn't really blame them. Draco pushed himself upright and stared at his reflection in a dusty mirror hung crookedly on the wall. So much like his father.

- - - - -

A tiny, ancient house elf nervously gave its master his breakfast, its withered hands quivering. Lucius Malfoy smirked. Merlin knows how much power you can receive in comparison to the weak.

"Elf!" Lucius commanded, for his servant had turned and began to scurry away. The elf froze and turned slowly and bowed again.

"Master Lucius, Dongo is at your service," the elf rasped.

"Where is my wife? Not still sleeping, at this hour? Fetch her immediately."

The elf murmured, "Yes, Master," and vanished with a _crack_.

Lucius smirked again, satisfied. Power. Over the Ministry, over his servants, over his wife, and his very own son. The Dark Lord was the only one above him, rightfully. It was through his Master that he commanded so much authority in the first place. Lucius carefully spread marmalade on a slice of toast, frowning. It was so unlike Narcissa to oversleep… He had business for her to attend to for him.

_Crack._ The house elf had returned, and was trembling all over Its tennis-ball sized eyes were flickering wildly around the room, and it seemed utterly terrified.

"What?" Lucius barked harshly at it. He was beginning to feel the stirrings of emptiness in his stomach, and it was the most unsettling thing… Lucius hadn't felt the sensation since he was seventeen years old.

"Mistress is…gone sir."

The elf's terrified words reverberated on the high ceilings and seemed to echo in disbelief.

"WHAT?" Malfoy bellowed, losing all composure. He had gotten up so suddenly that the elf was thrown to the floor. Lucius stormed away, kicking the elf brutally in the stomach when he passed. The poor creature could do nothing more than clutched his stomach while he punished himself, tearing at its flesh.

_She would never leave him. She wouldn't. She couldn't! _

There was an eerie calm brewing from his toes upward, the dead feeling pumping through his bloodstream.

_"You will never leave me, Narcissa. I would never let you."_

_"I cannot let you kill my son."_

Something burst within him, and her last words came flooding back. That _bitch_! Didn't she know that he would always find her? Her scent was ingrained into his every fiber after being with her for the last seventeen years! It would draw him to her, no matter where she was hiding.

But the very fact that she _dared!_ Dared to defy his authority! _She would pay so very dearly for that._ The inhuman anger began to simmer and froth, boiling and scalding his every nerve. His brain fuzzed and rational thought was altogether impossibly. The Veela blood through his veins began to transform him into something more formidable than a simple wizard. _She was gone!_

Her chamber was bare and hollow. The only thing that remained was her maddening scent that overpowered everything.

The violent shaking started from his hands, and soon his entire body shook with the effort of restraint. He wouldn't be able to take it—nothing could. He would destroy the whole manor if it meant getting rid of her scent forever!

He plunged his hand down the front of his robes and drew his wand, and began to blast apart everything in sight. Lucius didn't event think about the curses he was using, they just burst from him angrily.

The scent finally dissipated under the heavier, smothering smoke. Lucius quickly put out the fire. His head slowly emptied of the boiling, all-consuming fury. He realized what had become of his _mate_, and his hands began to shake all over again.

Narcissa had gone to Draco. _To save him_, he thought scathingly. His idiot female thought she was going to play the hero, did she? Slytherins _never_ were heroes. He would teach her. By trying to save her son, she doomed him. Draco would not live much farther than eighteen.

Suddenly, the thought struck him. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Or two blood-traitors, should he say? Lucius smirked.

He turned on his heel and stalked to his own chamber.

"ELF!" He bellowed. Within a second the miserable elf had appeared beside him. "Fetch me my quill and parchment! And something to _drink_!"

The elf was already back, handing him a neat scroll of parchment and, trying to control his trembling hand, a crystal goblet of firewhiskey. Lucius took it without sparing the elf a glance. He thoughtfully put the tip of his quill in a pot of ink and was about to take a sip from his drink when a muted squeak drew his attention. The elf was still there.

"What the _bleeding hell_ now?" he barked at the creature. It was repeatedly hitting itself over the head. What was wrong with that stupid thing?

It must be punishing itself, he thought with a savage pleasure. But for what? It had done what he said… he looked back at the amber liquid swirling around in his goblet.

"Poisonous," He muttered. His vision became blurry; colors were swirling around him vividly, but he snarled. The drink had congealed a little where the drink met the crystal. Tiny crystals had formed there.

Narcissa had tried to poison him! But what she didn't know was that his goblet had enchantments placed on it to detect the presence of poison—he had put them there himself.

Anger, bleeding red, flashed through his eyes. He had half a mind to dump the drink unceremoniously onto the floor. But then another thought hit him.

"Elf, here." He pushed the goblet back into the creature's trembling hands. "Drink this. Now."

Obediently, the elf raised the goblet to its wasted lips and swallowed a large gulp. Firewhiskey alone would already give an elf alcohol poisoning, but the poison worked so fast, the elf had hit the floor with a frail _thud_ within the second.

Smirking, Lucius grabbed a fistful of floo powder and threw it into the grate, where an emerald flame roared to life. It was time to put a few things into action.

"Hogwarts!"

- - - - -

_Dear Draco, _She wrote carefully at the top of her parchment. What does one say to Draco Malfoy? She wondered, staring out of the small window by her four-poster. The sun had cast a fiery glow on the grounds, slowly sinking behind the forested hills.

Ginny could only imagine how horrible being locked up in Grimmauld Place must be for Draco. _He must be going mad just about now… it's been three whole days_. Suddenly she was fighting back nausea.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered to herself. She felt empty. Isolated from the rest of the world. Was this what he had been talking about?

_"And you, you will live a life always half-empty, because you'll always be missing something. Something that completes you. And that would be me."_

"Of course," she sighed, and bent her head to complete her letter.

_It's been horrid here without you. None of the Gryffindors will even look at me anymore, so I only really talk to Luna. And even Blaise, on occasion. He's okay. _

_I miss you._

_It gets worse before it gets better, you know. But it won't be long before break, and I can come see you. We could have so much fun together, locked up in that house…_

_Soon, _

_Ginny_

"That's very touching, Weasley," a silky voice said from behind her, making her jump.

"How did you get in here?" her voice wavered, frightened.

"Is that any way to greet your father-in-law?" Lucius Malfoy asked in a deadly, cold voice.

"What do you want?" Ginny's eyes narrowed, and she slipped her hand under her robe discreetly, fingering her wand.

"I only want the best for my son, of course." Malfoy smirked. "And that, my dear blood traitor, is not you."

"Crucio!" he shouted, drawing his wand so fast it blurred. But she expected it, and she was faster.

"PROTEGO!" she countered, drawing up a faint blue, protective shield between her and Lucius. The curse bounced off her shield and shot back towards him, forcing him to duck. The unforgivable curse had caused her shield to crack, and it dissipated.

It was no more than a split second after Lucius realized the shield was broken that a curse hit Ginny so hard that it blasted her from her chair, causing her to hit her head on the wall with a sickening _crunch_.

Dazed and disoriented, Ginny tried to blink the hot blood out of her eyes. Her arm was bent at such a shocking angle, and she didn't understand…

"You are such a worthless excuse for a witch." Malfoy stood over her, sneering. "No son of mine will ever marry a Weasley," he spat. "Ever."

That was the last thing she heard before the darkness pulled her under, not to resurface.

- - - - -

She drifted, she dreamed. It was as if she was floating underwater, inches from breaking the surface. Ginny had already tried struggling to reach the surface, but it was _so exhausting_… it was much nicer to just lay and rest in the cool, dark water… watching the distorted images above her.

She saw her mother's worried brown eyes surrounded by a cloud of red hair, but Ginny really didn't want to have to listen to her constant 'mollycoddling' as Fred and George would say…

At one point, she was even sure she saw Ron's long freckled nose and violent red hair in his eyes… And next to him—that couldn't be Harry? The bottle-green eyes stood out more than anything. She tried to shut out the images, close her eyes…

Draco's soft, dark grey eyes watched her from hooded lids, hungrily... She gasped and the water was rough around her, pushing her forward, into the light…

"Ginny?" an anxious voice asked. Hermione.

"Merlin, she's awake!" Ron yelled, and Harry shoved him.

"Shut up, Ron!"

"OUT, now!" The fourth, stern voice was Madam Pomfrey, brandishing her wand. "Miss Weasley needs peace and quiet, or it will send her back into a relapse!"

They hurried out.

Ginny groaned. Every inch of her body ached, and her head felt like it would explode.

"Shh… drink this up." Madam Pomfrey tilted an orange potion to her lips. "Good girl."

Ginny sunk back into unconsciousness.

- - - - -

"What do you mean, it failed?" Narcissa shrieked, twisting her fingers in her lap.

"He must have realized that the drink was poisoned," Dumbledore said calmly. "Maybe a sneakoscope tipped him off. But don't worry; the Order will take care of him."

"Take care of him!" she exclaimed, her voice scathing. "I doubt it. He's so very well protected.

Dumbledore looked up, intrigued. "How so?"

- - - - -

"FILTHY HALF-BLOODS, SCUM MUDBLOODS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS— HOW DARE YOU SET FOOT IN THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK?"

The portrait of the screaming woman woke Draco from his nap, and he scowled in the direction of the entrance hall. But after five solid minutes of hair-raising screaming that wasn't silenced, Draco figured that something important might be going on that everybody couldn't be bothered to shut it up. He crept carefully into the dark landing and down the narrow staircase.

Suddenly, the alluring fragrance hit him, causing his heart to race and his head to spin. She was near.

He sprinted down the stairs and discovered the entrance hall full of people shrieking and hugging each other.

"Ginny! We're so glad you're okay," Tonks exclaimed, and Draco's feet surged forward of their own accord.

He pulled Ginny carefully into his warm embrace, and their heartbeats began to match the same rhythm.

"My Draco," She breathed on his neck, pressing her lips lightly over the point where she could feel his pulse.

"Ginny," he whispered, pulling her flush against him. "But why are you here? Christmas break doesn't start for another two weeks. Is everything okay?"

She smiled weakly. "It was kind of a matter of my safety…" she hedged. Draco growled in response.

"I don't understand."

"Your father," she whispered, shuddering against him.

"My father?" he snarled, pulling back and staring questioningly at her. "What did he do?" he demanded.

"He came to Hogwarts, looking for you. And he attacked me."

Draco tried to say something, but his throat was so tight it just came out as a strangled, "No!"

Ginny felt his entire body seize up in fury, and she put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Draco. Calm down. I'm here now."

"And so are we," an angry voice chimed in behind her, and Draco looked up, over her shoulder to see Ron Weasley glaring daggers at him, his fists clenched. Harry Potter was next to him in a similar composure, followed by the rest of the Weasley family, their eyes filled with anger, every drip of it directed towards him.

_Oh, shit._

- - - - -

Sincerest apologies for the delay in updating! Sooner next time, we promise. Please, leave a review! They make our day!!


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